#cause Griffin has come into my house and slapped me before so why not now

[torchstelechos]

Hey Hey, I see your Jake Coolice is the *insert Yeti, Dragon, Jack Frost, other snow creatures* but what if he was a Church Grim? They are usually big black dogs that protect a churchyard from thieves, vandals, witches, warlocks, and the Devil himself. They are also known to ring a bell when someone is going to die. To get a Church Grim for your church you have to bury a dog in the foundation, and it will guard it for as long as the foundation stands. 

So please consider a young teen finding the Amnesty Lodge and becoming friends with the people around and in it before tragically dying in an abomination attack(Or a misunderstanding with a new exiled individual), they have to bury him at Amnesty and they hold a funeral for him. Everyone goes to bed that night crying, wishing that he still lived. The next morning he is there at the door, changed. Instead of a human appearance he changed into a white wolf humanoid form and can’t quite speak. Everyone is in tears, he’s alive but at what cost to himself? This kind selfless human that had so many years ahead of him, that became the exiled’s friend at the cost of his life. Now he can’t ever go to his home, his family, his friends that would recognize him. They give him a human appearance but its different, his hair that had once been dirty blonde is now a pastel yellow(Almost white) and his eyes are now a piercing blue that had once been a warm hazel, his teeth are sharper and his nails longer. 

So he stays, he stays at Amnesty and mourns for his old life. He can no longer go into town and he lives just as long as any other individual from the lodge, he mourns and mourns. But as years go by he starts to grow into his old self, but always different. Instead of his need to bake and paint, he can’t sit still or pay enough attention for that, so he gets a need for speed and doing anything. He learns to ski and snowboard but he also learns how to use his new powers, to find the people who are going to die, to pinpoint anyone who wishes the lodge harm, to find the thieves, the magic users, and abominations that dare to hide among his own. He guards the lodge with his (undead)life.

The Stunt group he finds is something outside it all, he can be someone else just for as long as he hangs with them. Hollis and Keith are the ones who pulled him in, when they saw him do a flip that would kill any normal person(good thing hes not). So he smiles and his heart grows, he learns how to grow past the mourning, how to just smile for once instead of grimace. They hang, they have picnics, he’s there when Hollis learns about their pronouns for the first time, hes there for everyone. But when they start getting angry he can’t help but feel dread, “they aren’t going to sit down and take it, they’re gonna fight it” he hears them say and his veins become ice. He tells them he doesn’t support this, he can’t be apart of the now proclaimed Hornets, and he gets punched. The rings on the hand of Keith rips across his face, its going to scar for a long time. A constant reminder that his friends that taught him to smile are going to be just bitter memories and cold glares. So he goes back to the lodge, but he continues to smile and go snowboarding because for all the bad he still has good memories of them.

He is not the oldest member, but he is older than Mama, Barclay didn’t join until afterwards, everyone at the lodge is either not there for when he first appeared or keeps what he is a secret.  He hates his Insomnia, when he needs to go to a bell in the lodge at midnight to ring it to announce a death. He is aware when Aubrey comes into the lodge that she is a magic user, he is aware that Ned is a thief, and he knows that Duck is more than he appears(Old friends great great great grandchild, oh how he will guard the Newton family with his life), He knows everything about everyone in the lodge. And yet he continues to smile and ignore everything that could set off an alarm bell, he is still the friendly human he was before he died(And oh that stings to say). But now he is also the guard, and when the Hornets appeared and took over, he sat up and paid attention.

(Any way, that’s my thought on Jake Coolice as a Church Grim but if its like, sketchy or ignorant in some way please tell me. I get confused on what counts a cryptid and what counts as culturally creatures.)

[kellyvela]

Sansa, Catelyn, and Cersei are described as beautiful women in the books by several POVs. Their cheekbones, eyes, and hair are described in detail.

I was wondering, what about Daenerys? Is there any actual physical description of her in the books?

The first character that comes to my mind talking about Daenerys's look is Viserys :

“You still slouch. Straighten yourself.” He pushed back her shoulders with his hands. “Let them see that you have a woman’s shape now.”

(...) “She’s too skinny,” Viserys said.”

(...) “Smile,” Viserys whispered nervously, his hand falling to the hilt of his sword. “And stand up straight. Let him see that you have breasts. Gods know, you have little enough as is.”

—AGOT - Daenerys I

The second character is Illyrio:

“Look at her. That silver-gold hair, those purple eyes…she is the blood of old Valyria, no doubt, no doubt…and highborn, daughter of the old king, sister to the new, she cannot fail to entrance our Drogo.”

—AGOT - Daenerys I

So far: silver gold hair, purple eyes, slouch, too skinny, small breasts.

Now, according to the ASOIAF WIKI, "Daenerys has been described as fair and beautiful." Let's see:

Xaro described Dany as 'the fairest woman in the world':

"Let us speak instead of love, of dreams and desire and Daenerys, the fairest woman in this world. I am drunk with the sight of you."

She was no stranger to the overblown courtesies of Qarth. "If you are drunk, blame the wine."

"No wine is half so intoxicating as your beauty. My manse has seemed as empty as a tomb since Daenerys departed, and all the pleasures of the Queen of Cities have been as ashes in my mouth. Why did you abandon me?"

—ADWD - Daenerys III

Despite not knowing her in person yet, Tyrion called her our fair Daenerys:

"Aye." Tyrion moved his elephants. "And when the pisswater prince was safely dead, the eunuch smuggled you across the narrow sea to his fat friend the cheesemonger, who hid you on a poleboat and found an exile lord willing to call himself your father. It does make for a splendid story, and the singers will make much of your escape once you take the Iron Throne … assuming that our fair Daenerys takes you for her consort."

—ADWD - Tyrion VI

Galazza Galare called her fair Daenerys:

"I know these were not the words you wished to hear," said Galazza Galare. "Yet for myself, I understand. These dragons are fell beasts. Yunkai fears them … and with good cause, you cannot deny. Our histories speak of the dragonlords of dread Valyria and the devastation that they wrought upon the peoples of Old Ghis. Even your own young queen, fair Daenerys who called herself the Mother of Dragons … we saw her burning, that day in the pit … even she was not safe from the dragon's wroth."

—ADWD - The Queen's Hand

Jorah the creep called Daenerys 'the most beautiful that I have ever seen' that time he forced a kiss on her:

His eyes were on her breasts.

Dany covered them with her hands, before her nipples could betray her. "I . . . that was not fitting. I am your queen."

"My queen," he said, "and the bravest, sweetest, and most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Daenerys—"

—ASOS - Daenerys I

Even before knowing her in person, Quentyn called Daenerys 'the most beautiful in the world':

Tell me, my Westerosi friend, what is there in Meereen that you should want to go there?"

The most beautiful woman in the world, thought Quentyn. My bride-to-be, if the gods are good. Sometimes at night he lay awake imagining her face and form, and wondering why such a woman would ever want to marry him, of all the princes in the world. I am Dorne, he told himself. She will want Dorne.

(...) And now the most beautiful woman in the world was waiting in Meereen, and he meant to do his duty and claim her for his bride. She will not refuse me. She will honor the agreement. Daenerys Targaryen would need Dorne to win the Seven Kingdoms, and that meant that she would need him. It does not mean that she will love me, though. She may not even like me.

—ADWD - The Merchant's Man

"All dead," Quentyn agreed. "For what? To bring me here, so I might wed the dragon queen. A grand adventure, Cletus called it. Demon roads and stormy seas, and at the end of it the most beautiful woman in the world. A tale to tell our grandchildren. But Cletus will never father a child, unless he left a bastard in the belly of that tavern wench he liked. Will will never have his wedding. Their deaths should have some meaning."

—ADWD - The Spurned Suitor

Despite not knowing her in person yet, Euron and Victarion called Daenerys 'the fairest woman in the world' and 'the most beautiful woman in the world':

"The last of her line. They say she is the fairest woman in the world. Her hair is silver-gold, and her eyes are amethysts . . . but you need not take my word for it, brother. Go to Slaver's Bay, behold her beauty, and bring her back to me."

(...) "I could sail the Iron Fleet to hell if need be." When Victarion opened his hand, his palm was red with blood. "I'll go to Slaver's Bay, aye. I'll find this dragon woman, and I'll bring her back." But not for you. You stole my wife and despoiled her, so I'll have yours. The fairest woman in the world, for me.

—AFFC - The Reaver

"Aye, Captain," said Wulfe One-Ear. He was not half the man that Nute the Barber was, but the Crow's Eye had stolen Nute. By raising him to Lord of Oakenshield, his brother made Victarion's best man his own. "Is it still to be Meereen?"

"Where else? The dragon queen awaits me in Meereen." The fairest woman in the world if my brother could be believed. Her hair is silver-gold, her eyes are amethysts.

Was it too much to hope that for once Euron had told it true? Perhaps. Like as not, the girl would prove to be some pock-faced slattern with teats slapping against her knees, her "dragons" no more than tattooed lizards from the swamps of Sothoryos. If she is all that Euron claims, though … They had heard talk of the beauty of Daenerys Targaryen from the lips of pirates in the Stepstones and fat merchants in Old Volantis. It might be true. And Euron had not made Victarion a gift of her; the Crow's Eye meant to take her for himself. He sends me like a serving man to fetch her. How he will howl when I claim her for myself. Let the men mutter. They had sailed too far and lost too much for Victarion to turn west without his prize.

—ADWD - The Iron Suitor

The iron captain had no time to wait for laggards. Not with his bride encircled by her enemies. The most beautiful woman in the world has urgent need of my axe.

—ADWD - Victarion I

Daario also called Daenerys beautiful:

Daario Naharis entered swaggering. He swaggers even when he is standing still. (...) "Bright queen," he said, "you have grown more beautiful in my absence. How is this thing possible?"

The queen was accustomed to such praise, yet somehow the compliment meant more coming from Daario than from the likes of Reznak, Xaro, or Hizdahr. "Captain. They tell us you did us good service in Lhazar." I have missed you so much.

—ADWD - Daenerys IV

As you can see from the last quote, in addition to those already mentioned, there are other characters around Daenerys that constantly praise her beauty. And I'm sure I failed to quote others characters talking about Daenerys's beauty as well.

There is also the fact that Daenerys's eyes are compared to Ashara Dayne, a known beauty:

And they told how afterward Ned had carried Ser Arthur's sword back to the beautiful young sister who awaited him in a castle called Starfall on the shores of the Summer Sea. The Lady Ashara Dayne, tall and fair, with haunting violet eyes.

—AGOT - Catelyn II

Even after all these years, Ser Barristan could still recall Ashara's smile, the sound of her laughter. He had only to close his eyes to see her, with her long dark hair tumbling about her shoulders and those haunting purple eyes. Daenerys has the same eyes. Sometimes when the queen looked at him, he felt as if he were looking at Ashara's daughter …

—ADWD - The Kingbreaker

As you can see, the praise to her beauty comes from mostly dubious people, more interested in her dragons than in herself, people that wanted to use her for their own agenda than truly and unconditionally help her.

I personally think that the Targs are exactly in the line/border of beauty and ugliness. But also take note that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. For Westeros, Targaryen/Valyrian look is exotic, the gold-silver hair (that can look almost white/grey) and the purple/lilac/indigo eyes. And exotic can be attractive for some people. But most than exotic, when Targaryen conquered Westeros, they established the superiority of their blood, so of course their look, incest tradition and dragon riding was stated as superior and exceptional, they even wrote a doctrine about that and called it "exceptionalism." And it's too easy to associated superiority with beauty......

Anyway, about the Targaryen look, I think we must trust in Princess Arianne Martell:

Young John Mudd has been sending out birds as well, it seemed. Near dusk on the fourth day, not long after Chain and his wagons had taken their leave of them, Arianne’s company was met by a column of sellswords down from Griffin’s Roost, led by the most exotic creature that the princess had ever laid her eyes on, with painted fingernails and gemstones sparkling in his ears.

Lysono Maar spoke the Common Tongue very well. “I have the honor to be the eyes and ears of the Golden Company, princess.”

“You look… ” She hesitated.

“…like a woman?” He laughed. “That I am not.”

“ …like a Targaryen,” Arianne insisted. His eyes were a pale lilac, his hair a waterfall of white and gold. All the same, something about him made her skin crawl. Was this what Viserys looked like? she found herself wondering. If so perhaps it is a good thing he is dead.

“I am flattered. The women of House Targaryen are said to be without peer in all the world.”

“And the men of House Targaryen?”

“Oh, even prettier. Though if truth be told, I have only seen the one.” Maar took her hand in his own, and kissed her lightly on the wrist. “Mistwood sent word of your coming, sweet princess. We will be honored to escort you to the Roost, but I fear you have missed Lord Connington and our young prince.”

—TWOW - Arianne II

Thanks for your message.

[hotpotrandomfics]

Future AU: A Promise Never Broken

Summary: Merula, Penny, Rowan, and Tulip have been on the run for weeks as they have been chased by Death Eaters. The former classmates would have been killed hadn’t someone came to their rescues.

Word Count: 2,907

"Come on, this way Penny!" Merula shouted, running and casting spells behind her as the Death Eaters chased her and her friends. "Rowan! Tulip! Come on!"

Three friends ran past Merula, covering her from behind, after making it into the abandoned house behind them. They shut the door and barracked it before looking for a way to get out.

"This has got to be the worst day ever!" Rowan said panting and wiping the sweat off his glasses. "What are gonna do now? I don't see any exits, and that door won't hold them back!"

"Khanna, shut up and let me think for a second," Merula replied.

"Look, I have at least one dung bomb left. We use Lumos to blind them last minute then make a break for it," Tulip responded.

"I have two more fire-breathing potions, and one wiggleweed potion left. I could use one on them before escaping too," Penny offered her idea to them.

"Okay, then let's go with that. Penny, drink up. Tulip, prep the bomb, and Rowan, have your wand ready," Merula replied prepping her wand.

Ever since Voldemort's resurrection, the wizarding world has been thrown into chaos. Dark wizards and many other creatures had joined his cause, whether out of pure loyalty or fear. Even the one they thought would never be corrupted, Jason Piscius Aurelius De Leone. Jason had been gone for months after being recruited by his brother, Jacob, and has been one of Voldemort's topmen in assassinations. Ismelda. Barnaby. Tonks. Andre. Ben. Jae. Diego. Liz. All killed by Jason. Merula was the most heartbroken out of all his friends. Over the years, they had been enemies turned friends, to lovers. The biggest betrayal she had ever felt in her life, was by the one she loved the most.

"It's still so hard to believe this though, Jason," Rowan muttered. "How are we going to fight this? Fight him?"

Merula stomped over to Rowan gripping him by his collar, tears creeping down her cheeks. She had bags under her eyes, revealing her lack of sleep for the past few days. Tulip and Penny tried to pry her off him as he squirmed.

"We have no choice, dammit! He betrayed us!" Merula shouted angrily. "I don't want to fight him, but our lives and the information we got from those bastards will help save at least the wizarding world!"

"Snyde, enough! Let him go!" Tulip said pulling at him. "We don't have time for this!"

"Merula, stop! Please!" Penny asked pleading her to let Rowan go.

She obliged her friends and let Rowan go. She was stressed by the emotional turmoil she was facing. Everyone was, and they needed to focus or be killed by their once friend.

There were murmurs outside and then complete silence.

BOOM

"Well well," one death eater said as he walked in smirking at the group of young wizards. "Four little wizards. Make your choice now. Join the Dark Lord or die?"

"Interesting, here's our counter-offer," Tulip replied throwing her dung bomb at the Death Eaters disorienting them temporarily. "Penny, now!"

On cue, Penny spewed fire on the Death Eaters, setting two ablaze and causing the others to jump out of the way. Merula and Rowan cast Lumos to blind the other Death Eaters before all four of them ran out of the building, following through the alleys till they met a dead end.

"Dammit! What now?" Merula spouted.

"End of the road, little Snyde and friends," said an all too familiar voice. Fenrir Greyback in his werewolf form followed by a group of Death Eaters. "Try as you might, you will fail as you did in Hogwarts."

Fenrir had caused many grievances for Merula. He turned Jason into a werewolf when they searched for the vaults during their time at Hogwarts. It was under him that Jason served, as well as Jacob.

"Time for payback you, you little twit!", as one of the Greybacks, Death Eaters cast Petrificus Totalus, binding all four of the weary wizards.

"It must be horrifying knowing you failed in protecting your friends and knowing the ones you couldn't save were by the one who loved you the most. Ah, I was surprised how far Jason would go to show his loyalty to the Dark Lord. But alas, I will be the one to kill you all."

Merula couldn't stop the tears from rolling down her face now. Was this how she'd die? Is this how her friends will die? All because of Jason, the man she grew to love through the years, corrupted to serve Voldemort.

Just as Greyback was raising his claws to kill Merula, a shout of a few voices came from nowhere.

"Incendio,"  shouted a large man setting one Death Eater ablaze.

"Bombarda," shouted two feminine voices sending half of the enemy into a wall.

"What is going on?!" shouted Greyback.

"A rescue. Configro," said a man, landing between Greyback and Merula. A man in a black coat. "Diego, free them!"

"On it Aurelius," said Diego as he cast Finite Incantium, freeing the four paralyzed wizards.

"Jason?!" shouted Rowan as he stood up surprised.

"Hey amigo, we can talk later," said the man, turning to look back on them. "I'll take a slap from you later il mio amore," Jason said as he winked at Merula.

"Get them Bean!," said Barnaby flying down on the back of griffin as it grabbed a Death Eater and tossed him over the roofs of a nearby building.

"Hey guys, sorry we're late," said Ismelda appearing behind a few Death Eaters and stunning them. "Baubillious!"

One by one, the Death Eaters were taken down, and with them, all of Merula friends appeared. Ismelda. Barnaby. Tonks. Andre. Ben. Jae. Diego. Liz. Even the Weasleys, Bill, and Charlie accompanied by a baby dragon that was setting some Death Eaters rear ablaze. Badeea had caused a few to be trapped in a small sketchbook. She couldn't believe the sight as their pursuers were being beaten while Jason was busy handling Greyback.

"Get clear guys," as Jason raised his wand. "Auguamenti!" sending a stream of water through the alley, chucking Greyback and his Death Eaters down. "Charlie! Where is the big guy?!"

As if on cue a large dragon flew down and grabbed Tulip, Rowan, and Penny. Charlie and Bill jumped on the dragon as the beast flew off with them. Ismelda flew off on her broom, along with Diego and Badeea. Barnaby and Liz flew away on Bean the griffin. Jason grabbed Merula before casting Baubillious on the drenched Death Eaters, knocking them all out.

"Let's go," Jason said as he flew off on his broom holding Merula in his arms.

"Aurelius, you better explain now, or I'll throw you off your broom!" she shouted as they soared behind their friends.

"Well, I would appreciate a thank you or a kiss but I know I'm in the doghouse," he said laughing softly. "I will explain everything once we get to the hideout, I promise."

"You better or I am casting the killing curse on you," she stated holding tightly to him to prevent falling off.

The gang had flown for what felt like hours till they landed in the garden of the estate that appeared to look abandoned. They fell as everyone jumped off their essential mode of transportation.

"Jason!" said Rowan and Penny as they ran at him ready to hug him but stopped midway as Merula slapped him.

"Why?!" she shouted angrily. "Why go and join Voldemort? How is everyone alive?!" she kept shouting as she repeatedly slapped him harder and harder.

He gestured for everyone to stay back as she kept hitting. Jason pulled her close as she began to sob and tried to fight out of his embrace. He gently stroked her hair as she wept into him.

"I'm sorry," he stated, "I was given orders by the Ministry and worked with Professor Snape to uncover some plans and hidden locations for Voldemort's top subordinates. But to win their trust, I had to act as an assassin."

"Orders?" she looked at him stunned. "You did all this stop Voldemort?"

"Yes, I'm sorry I couldn't tell you Merula. I did all I could to protect you and everyone," he said wiping her tears from her eyes. "I wouldn't betray them, and I wouldn't betray you. I said I'd protect you no matter what."

"Even throughout all this time you kept your promises, huh?" she said and flicked his nose. "I thought I told you I'd protect you too based on our promise, jerk."

"Ow! Well, I am stubborn as you fairly know. Again, I'm sorry I had to deceive you," he looked at his friends, "all of you. I did what I had to do. I don't expect forgiveness. And if you need to, go ahead and slap or punch me if it will ease your anger."

"Jason, we couldn't hate you but what you did was reckless," stated Rowan. "But you are our troublemaker mate." He said and smiled.

"To think you'd break a bunch of laws for the sake of stopping all this madness? I am impressed Aurelius," Tulip said walking to him and slapping him. "But if you're gonna break rules then let me help."

"It's good to know you're not evil Jason but please never do that again," Penny said as she hugged his side, and Merula looking up at him pouting.

"Haywood, you have three seconds to let go of my boyfriend," Merula said as she stared at Penny menacingly.

"Merula, at least one group hug we've been through a lot in the past few weeks," Penny wined.

"Fine, one time," Merula muttered.

All of the gang got together to commemorate their reunion as the vault solvers. They were happy to see their family was along again as a whole. After a moment of embracing, they made their way into the manner as Jason showed them the way in.

"Who's house is this?" asked Tulip.

"That crest, wait a moment. Jason, is this?" asked Rowan surprised.

"Welcome to the Aurelius manor. The United Kingdom manor anyhow," Jason stated embarrassed. "I got plenty of room so you all can have your own space to rest."

Jason gave everyone a tour of the manor and explained all the exits should they be attacked. By the time he finished all his friends had followed him to the dining area. They sat and ate as he explained more of the mission as one of Voldemort's minions and where the final battle would take place. Afterward, his friends went to their assigned rooms to get some much-needed rest. Jason went to his living room and stood by the fireplace lost in thought.

"You know, I am still quite angry with you. Yes?" Merula said as she walked to him.

"Well given how many times I was slapped I would have no idea," he said turning to face her. "But I wanted to keep you safe. Merula, I don't know how many times I have to say, but I'm-" Jason was cut off by her lips against his.

"Shut up, and I heard enough. I forgive you, but you're going never to do something this reckless again," she said placing a hand on his chest. "Am I clear Aurelius?"

"I promise," he said taking her hand into his kissing it. "My cover was blown anyway to save you, and I don't regret it." Jason caressed her cheek and smiled down at her. "I missed you Merula."

"I missed you too Jason," Merula replied stepping up to kiss him again.

"I won't leave you ever again," he said as he renewed their kiss.

"You better or you're gonna be in a world of trouble beloved," Merula said smirking up at him.

"I would never dream of crossing you," he said kissing her forehead. "I had seven years of that already amore."

"Well, I am the most powerful witch in the world."

"And the most beautiful witch in the world," he responded.

"How I miss your flattery," she said leaning into his chest.

"Ready to win a war?" he asked her smirking down.

"With you? Believe it." Merula said holding tightly as if he'd vanish.

Jason was one to take the necessary risk for those he loved. Merula knew that all too well. Putting his life on the line while saving her and protect her from the likes of many dangers before. Together, they will help put this world right and keep it from the likes of Voldemort and his Death Eaters.

[how-do-i-write-plz]

Burning Heart

Charlie Burns x Reader (Commission)

You take a deep breath as you stand in front of the Burns house. Charlie, your boss, had invited you over for a cookout, and you were a bit nervous. You have no idea why; ever since you moved to Griffin Rock and began working for him, he’s invited you over to join in the families activities. Most of your days are spent at their house, whether it’s for work or just to hang out. They’ve become like a second family to you, even Kade once he stopped hitting on you.

You smile to yourself, imagining the scene you’d be walking into. Kade showing himself off in the pool for Haley only to be ruined by Cody doing a cannon ball and getting him completely soaked. Either that or he and Danni would be swimming laps to see who was casted while Cody timed. With either scenario, Graham would probably be sitting on the side of the pool while Charlie cooked up the food. Your smile grows as you think of Charlie in his bikini babe apron. He’d probably be sweating from the fire in the grill and to cool off he’d take a dip in the pool. The more you think about it, the more you feel your face heating up.

Ok maybe you did know why you were so nervous. You had formed feelings for Charlie. They surprised you because he’s much older then you, and you’re only a few years older then Kade. Charlie was old enough to be your father, but you couldn’t help it. He was kind, funny, and not mention he was very handsome. The more time you spent with him, the more you wanted him.

Finally, you knock on the door. You expect Cody to be rushing to answer, but when the door opens, you’re greeted with that familiar bikini babe apron. Your eyes drift up and they meet Charlie’s. He has a kind smile on his face, small wrinkles around his eyes. You blush more, considering some of the thoughts you just had about him.

“You finally made it, come on in and I’ll fix you a drink.” You smile and nod as you enter as you hope your flushed face wasn’t obvious to him. You zoned out as you panicked, but when you tuned back in Charlie was staring at you like he asked a question. “You feeling alright? Your face is red.”

“I-I’m fine.” You smile nervously, desperately trying to calm down. “Just kind of lost in thought, did you ask me something?”

“I was just wondering what drink you wanted, I make a mean margarita.” You blinked a little in surprise. If Charlie drank, you certainly didn’t know about it. At Christmas he won’t even have a glass of wine.

“Oh, uh a margarita sounds great.” You didn’t drink much, but you didn’t want to be a stick in the mud. “I honestly didn’t peg you as the drinking kind of guy.” You joke sad you smile happily.

“Eh don’t want to drink to much around the kids, even if half of em can drink themselves.” He chuckles along. “But it’s a nice summers day, and I wanted to have a little fun.” You can feel yourself relax as he makes your drink.

“So where’s Cody? I was expecting him to open the door, unless he’s in the pool already.” You try to look outside, but Charlie coughs slightly before sliding you your drink.

“Cody’s got a project coming up, so he and Fran are having a study date.” He smiles while making one for himself. You nod in understanding as you hold your drink, it was a pretty pink and red gradient so you suspect the flavor to be strawberry. You wait to drink until Charlie’s finished making his own drink. He holds his glass up and you follow along, clinking your glasses together before taking a sip.

Your eyes widen, Charlie had every right to brag, this was one damn good margarita. “Oh wow. That’s, that’s really good.” You couldn’t help but smile. “Where’d you learn to make one so good?” Charlie chuckles as he smiles at you.

“Years of practice.” He jokes before grabbing his drink and moving outside. “Come on, I’ve made burgers and hotdogs.” You smile as you follow him with your drink. You were expecting to see the others out around the pool, but it was eerily empty. It dawns on you, that it’s just you and him. You try to laugh softly.

“So where is everyone else?” When you turn back to Charlie, had taken off the apron along with his shirt. Your face was now on fire, but you couldn’t peel your eyes away. Charlie briefly mentions where his other children are, but you weren’t really focused on that. He grabs himself a plate before handing you one. “Oh uh- Thank you.” You try to ignore the fact that he caught you staring.

“We can swim first if you want, don’t want you to cramp up.” His tone seemed to changed, but you played it off as your mind playing tricks on you. “The water should be nice cool.” He sets his plate down and moves towards the pool. Your heart was beating like crazy, but you didn’t want him knowing.

“Uh yea, yea just give me a second.” You turn your back on him, though you really didn’t want to. You hear him jump down into the pool as you pull off your coverup. You wore a two piece, not quite a bikini, but still revealing in its own way. You turn back around after putting on a smile, but you’re surprised to when you see him looking at you. You panic for a moment. “I-is something wrong with my suit?” You try to look behind you.

“Oh nonono. Just uh waiting so I can help you in. Ladder is broken.” You could have sworn he was panicking, something you didn’t think Charlie would do. You blush though as you take off your flip flops and head towards the pool. Charlie offers his hand, and you happily take it. He helps you down, but with you being so clumsy you slip. You squeak as you fall towards him, and you feel his thick arms wrap around you. “Whoa! I Gotcha.” He keeps his arms around you though you could probably stand on your own. “You alright?” His voice was soft and tender.

All you could was stare up into his eyes as he held you close. Though it’s only been a few seconds, it felt like hours were passing by. You didn’t know if you could respond. You couldn’t help it, the way he felt against you, the look on his face, it was all too much. You short circuited, but instead of pushing him away, you laid your hands on his chest.

He jumps slightly, not expecting you to touch him. His heart was pounding against his chest as you moved your hands up his chest and around his neck. Your heart was beating like crazy. Was he going to accept, or push you away? You falter however and begin to pull away, sputtering our an apology. You were so embarrassed, but before you could fully pull away, Charlie pulled your even closer to him. You gasp softly as you look up, and his lips meet yours.

He pulled back and looked at you with such an intense look. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.” His soft yet deep tone sent shivers down your spine. Your emotions were all over the place, but his hands slid down your back causing you to look up at him. “Do you want this too?” You could only nod softly as you held onto him tightly.

Once again, his lips were on yours. This new side of Charlie excited you. He was slightly tougher, his hands not shying away from exploring you. He lifted you, grasping your ass as he did to keep you balanced and to grope it. You let out a soft sigh as he moved his kisses to your neck. You didn’t care how fast it was moving, you wanted more.

He pulls back to look at you, “You gotta tell me what you want baby, or I won’t know what to do~” you whine when he stops kissing you, but he won’t keep going until you answer him.

“I- I want more~” you say, your voice trembling as it comes out. He smiles looking pleased before he goes back to kissing your neck. His dominant hand then moves inbetween your legs and begins to rub you through your swimsuit. Your gasps quickly become moans as he continues. It felt too good, and you couldn’t help but cling to him as he continues.

Eventually, he moves your swimsuit to the side and slowly but deeply begins to finger you. You slap your hand over your mouth to prevent yourself from moaning too loudly. He chuckles before moving faster. You let out muffled moans unable to stop yourself from muttering, “Daddy~”

He stops for only a moment as you blush and hide your face. He then picks up the pace once again as he whispers in your ear. “Daddy’s going to take good care of you~” He pulls your face out of hiding and kisses you deeply. You moan into the kisses, feeling nothing but absolute bliss.

Suddenly, he begins to pull off your bottoms and sets them in the edge before pulling down his trunks just enough to reveal his member. You gasp a little when seeing it, before gently sliding your hands down his chest. It twitches as you move closer, until your hand wraps around it. Charlie groans and you couldn’t help but smile as you begin to stroke him slowly.

A string of curses leave Charlie’s mouth and you couldn’t help but smile and giggle. He chuckles a bit as he groans. He seemed to get harder, but before to long, he grasps your wrists wand them with one hand before he lines himself up with you. You shake and tremble, but he gently strokes your cheek before kissing you.

You feel better, and soon he lowers your onto him, and you have to bite your lip to keep yourself from moaning too loudly. He smiles, until he’s in you entirely. “Oh sh-shit you’re- you’re huge~” you managed to make out. He chuckles at this before beginning to slowly thrust into you. You bury your face in his neck, continuing to muffle your moans.

Charlie picks up the pace and your grip around him gets tighter. You begin to call him by his new name and that seems to drive him crazier. You were so close, based on his body language so was he.

Suddenly, you hear a car door followed by Cody saying goodbye to Fran and her father. Both you and Charlie swear before desperatly trying to put on your bottoms. Luckily there was enough time to get dressed before Cody waved to you both before running upstairs to change into his swimsuit. Once Cody is out of sight, Charlie gropes you’re ass softly before whispering in your ear. “We’ll have to pick up where we left off at another time~”

[dead-inside-mcgee]

Controlling a marionette Part 3

@blog-griffin-me I love you <3<3<3 Summary: “Time is broken my friend!”

Chase couldn’t sleep at all that night. He was paranoid and fidgety all day. So was everyone else so no one thought much of it. Of course everyone was paranoid, Anti could attack any day.

 He kept checking his pocket for the button every few seconds. He wasn’t sure if he was hoping that it wouldn’t be there anymore or if he was hoping it was still there.

 He hadn’t told anyone about the dream or the button. Nightmares were a common sign that something bad was going to happen and he didn’t want to worry them more. Also he was sure if he told anyone about the button, the moment he reached in his pocket to grab it, it would disappear.

 They chose that the best plan would be to stick together so if Anti did attack then they would have safety in numbers. That plan flew out the window as Greyson, in a panic, ran out to survey the city and Henrik, fearing for the others, isolated himself in his room.

 Robbie didn’t seem to understand what was going on, and just wandered around. Chase kept a close eye on him, which was becoming increasingly difficult with Marvin panicking and Jameson not being much help.

 Marvin was standing in the front yard, casting every shield and safety spell known to mankind. He considered going to talk to him but decided against it.

 Dr. Septiceye appeared out of the stairwell right as Chase was about to go up it. He looked even more panicked than Marvin, his hair sticking up on end and damp with sweat.

 He panted as if he’d just run a marathon. He grabbed Chase by the shoulders and took a second to catch his breath. “I need to tell you something!”

 He gripped the doctors wrist in return. “What is it?”

 “It’s about Anti!”

 Chase’s blood ran cold. “What is it? Did you see him? You should tell Ma-” the doctor cut him off.

 “No! Nonononono! Anti he isn’t-” He didn’t finish. His face turned pale and he dashed back up the stairwell.

 Chase turned to see Jameson standing behind him with a worried expression. Robbie stood behind him, holding his hand and sucking his thumb.

 “Do you know what’s up with him?”

 He shakes his head and hands Robbie off to him before disappearing up the stairwell as well.

 “You wanna watch a cartoon or something?”

 He gives him a confused puppy look but nods.

***

“What do you mean Dr. Septiceye is gone?” Greyson asked. All the septics were rounded up in the living room, all except one.

 “I mean he’s gone. He wasn’t in the ER nor in his room. He just disappeared,” Henrik said. That put everyone on edge. If he was taken… Chase didn’t want to think about that.

 “Are you sure he wasn’t just in the bathroom or something?” Greyson asked, chuckling nervously. He always tried to think positive even now, Chase respected him for that even if it was silly.

 Marvin on the other hand did everything in his power to contradict whatever Greyson says. Or he usually would, right now he was staring silently at a wall. His expression a mix between guilt and anger.

 “I’m sure. I even had Marvin call him. No answer.”

 You could cut the tension with a knife… maybe not a knife.

 “Who was the last person that spoke to him?” Henrik asked. Chase’s eyes flicked to jameson who had a blank look on his face.

 “Jameson? Do you know anything?” All eyes turned to him, except Marvin who was still staring at a wall.

 A bead of sweat dripped off his mustache as a slide appeared him his hand. “No.”

 “Are you sure? I saw you go after him earlier, did he at least say anything to you?” Chase asked.

 The dapper ego shot him a glare so sudden and uncharacteristic that Chase flinched and jumped back. In the second it was there, it left, leaving everyone’s eyes on him. Now he was sure he was losing it.

 “No, he didn’t say anything odd. He just seemed paranoid which didn’t seem off considering the situation.”

 “That’s it! We need to come up with a plan.” Greyson stood up, but was stopped by Marvin.

 “Don’t you get it Jackie? I tried everything, I searched through hundreds of books and tried thousands of spells and he still got in.” His eyes glowed with anger. “There’s no point, we’re only delaying the inevitable.”  

 Greyson pulled his arm out of his grasp. “We can’t loose hope now! We just can’t!”

 “Yes we can. Just get it through your thick skull!” He jumped up to stare him down. “You can’t always win. There is no happy ending or some secret thing that’ll magically stop him. He won, we lost. Just accept your fate!”

 “Why are you so persistent on giving up? Are you working for him?” He glared.

 “How dare you!” Marvin hissed. Everything went quiet. “I stood by you in everything. I followed up to here, I tried my best and I even tried to fuel your positivity but you need to face reality!”

 “Guys-” Chase tried to say something but Henrik placed his hand on his shoulder and shook his head.

 He hung his head low as he pulled Robbie out of the living room and left the other two to fight. Wait a second. Where did Jameson go?

 Worry flooded his system, until he spotted him standing in the kitchen. Robbie wandered after Henrik, to his dismay, as Chase went to say something to him.

 The kitchen was pretty isolated from the rest of the house. You couldn’t see inside unless you were looking through the door or through the small island between the kitchen and living room.

 Jameson stood in the farthest corner, barely visible through the gap. The first thing Chase noticed is that Jameson’s eye was bleeding again.

 “Jamie? Are you alright?” He takes a step closer, reaching out his hand only to have it slapped away. He glares, letting out a low snarl, causing him the jump back.

 “James? Do you want me to go get Henrik?”

 His expression doesn’t change. He takes a step forward, and Chase takes a step back.  

 There was a loud snapping sound and everything went dark.

***

This has happened before. Or at least was always going to happen, no matter how many times you go back. Like when you reread a book or rewatch a movie, you already know how the story ends, yet you always feel a bit shocked in the end.

 That’s how Chase felt at the moment. Like he’s experienced this before, but not in the way you feel before you reread a book, like how you feel once you start the sequel. You know how the first story ends but not where the other begins.

 But unlike a book, something's changed this time around. Something small, nearly unnoticeable, but it’s changed.

 He sat in a dark room, his hands chained above his head. The room around him was in total darkness, except for a light coming from seemingly nowhere. It was quiet; too quiet. Even his heartbeat was silenced in this place. The only noise being the ticking of a clock.

 The void. He was back. Or was this the first time he’s been here?

 Either way he knew what would happen next. In the area past the light there stood a figure. They’d been standing there the whole time.

 “Who are you? Speak!” But he knew who it was. Or he hoped he knew who it was.

 “Chase brody,” the crappy text-to-speech voice said.

 “What the fuck?”

 “Language.”

 “What are you? Do you work for Anti?”

 “Ha ha ha,” it laughed, humorlessly. “Guess I played the character too well.”

 It through something into the light. A detailed marionette. Chase had only ever seen the demon they called Anti once, but he recognized the puppet.

 “W-what.” He stared at it dumbfounded, but it clicked together.

 Anti never was the one controlling the marionette. But if not him, then who?

“I was hoping to make the doctor part of my collection, sense he needed a friend,” Another dry laugh, “but I got too wrapped up in toying with him that I didn’t notice the days passing by.”

 A toy, that’s all they are to this thing. “You sick fuck!” He kicked and struggled against the chains.

 “Didn’t I say anything about language? We ought to shut that mouth of yours.”

 For a split second he could see something reflected off the light. A sewing needle.

 A spool of thread landed on the floor in the light and he could hear the snip of scissors, but this time there was no one here to save him.

 “Jameson, please don’t do this!” The figure froze.

 “How did you-”

 He laughed, a true laugh. Something he never thought he’d do in a place like this.

 “Time is broken my friend!” The chains were gone and without a second thought he dashed to the left.

 The light behind him disappeared. He could hear Jameson’s footsteps behind him, but they too, disappeared.

 This is where the first book ends, and now Chase is left, diving headfirst into the next part. At least he had an idea of where to go.

 He reached into his pocket, pulling out the blue button. He still didn’t quite know what it meant or what it was for but he had a feeling Jameson would want it. He made a silent vow not to let him have it.

[mischiefandspirits]

So Look out Now ‘Cause He’s Comin’ After You

Shiro's gone, leaving Keith and Adam to figure out what's next.

Part 2: Aftermath

How dare they? How dare they!?

How could they release information to the press before informing the Holts and Keith?

He was furious!

He didn’t care if they had asked the press to hold off until the families could be told. With information like that, it was going to be everywhere by the end of the night.

He hoped Sam’s wife raised hell when she and her daughter came in tomorrow to “find out.” He wished he could tell her before, but he didn’t have her contact information.

At least he could save the kid that pain.

He pressed his hand to the scanner and the door to Keith’s barrack opened. He opened his mouth as he stepped into the doorway, then paused.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he groaned, “Griffin, remove yourself from Oriol. I need him for a moment.”

Griffin leapt off Keith with a yelp. “Lt. Wr-Wrona! I -”

“Save it. I’m not in the mood for your troublemaking. Just straighten yourself out and leave before I decide to write you both up.”

“Yessir!” Griffin quickly tugged the wrinkles from his uniform jacket and fled the room.

Keith, despite being far more rumpled, didn’t even bother. Instead he crossed his arms, scowling at Adam with suspicion. “What are you doing here?”

“Considering I’m ignoring what I just walked in on, you could be a bit kinder.”

“You’ve barely spoken to me in nearly a year. I think I have a right to be suspicious.”

“Trust me, I’d love to dump this on someone else -”

“Clearly. I know they asked you to act in loco parentis while Shiro’s gone and you told them to take a hike.”

“It’s not that simp-” Adam sighed and came into the room, shutting the door behind him. “Look, I’m not here to fight. There’s something you need to know, about Takashi.”

Keith immediately sat up straight. “What’s going on? Is it about the next communication? They’re not trying to keep me out again, right? Shiro made it clear -”

“It’s not that.” Adam sat next to the kid, but didn’t bother reaching out. He was well aware the kid would lash out, either because of the news he brought or because it was him. “There isn’t going to be a next communication. The Kerberos mission… It’s been lost.”

“What? How could i- How do you lo- What?” Keith stuttered in barely more than a whisper.

“There was a crash. The crew… Takashi and the others are being labeled missing, presumed dead. The crash was fatal and considering how far out Kerberos is, they can’t risk launching a retrieval mission right now.”

Keith started shaking his head. “No. No! That’s no- You’re lying! He… They… No!”

“It’s true.”

“How? How’d they crash?” Keith snarled, springing to his feet.

This was the part he’d been worried about the most. “It’s being put down to pilot error.”

Keith froze. “What?”

“Kei-”

“That’s not possible! Shiro wouldn’t make a mistake like that!” Keith exploded.

“We all make mistakes,” Adam said, keeping his tone even.

“Shiro doesn’t! Not one’s like that! He’s the best.”

“He was also only human. And a sick one at that. There was a reason Sanda and Iverson -- and I -- didn’t want him on that mission.”

“He was fine! All his sim flight scores were as high as ever and the doctors cleared him!”

“Yes, but there was no way to predict how zero-g would affect his disease at this stage.”

“So what? It must have been his fault then?” Keith snorted.

Adam shook his head. “I don’t know, Keith,” he said softly. “I’m just telling you what I found out. They haven’t told me anything. I’m not even supposed to know this much, and I’m certainly not supposed to be telling you.”

“Then why are you?”

“Because they already informed the press and if it’s not being talked about on every news station and forum long before Iverson brings you and the Holts in tomorrow I’ll join Harris for drinks.”

Keith stared him down for a moment before ducking his head. “It’s true?”

“I’m sorry.”

Keith’s fists clenched and Adam thought the kid was going to start swinging. Maybe at him, maybe at the walls, maybe he’d go running down the halls to Iverson. He also thought he might start screaming again, or maybe he’d do all of the above.

He certainly didn’t expect the kid to throw himself at Adam, clinging to his chest and burying his face into Adam’s neck as he started sobbing.

After the quick bout of shock passed, he wrapped his arms around Keith and held him close. “I’m sorry,” he repeated quietly.

Keith was fuming when Adam came into the office.

“You come to lecture me too?” he growled. With his teeth bared and the low rumble filling the air, he reminded Adam of a wild cat.

Adam ignored it. “Get up and follow me.”

Thankfully he did so without a word. At least until they reached the student barracks.

“Where are we going?” Keith asked, stopping.

“Keith, let’s not do this in the middle of the hall.”

A couple girls started whispering to each other as they stared at them and Keith’s shoulders scrunched up before he pushed ahead.

He took the lead, stomping the whole way to his barrack. He slapped his hand against the scanner, sending Adam a glare.

“Here I was thinking you got expelled,” Griffin started as soon as Keith stepped inside. “What were you thinking, attacking Iverson like that? Yeah, he probably should have had more tact than to mention Shiro in front of you, even if he was just trying to remind us to be cautious, but -”

Griffin cut off as he spotted Adam behind Keith.

He jumped to his feet and saluted. “Sorry, sir, didn’t see you.”

“At ease.” Adam held the bag he was carrying out to Keith. “Pack up your things.”

“What’s going on?” Griffin asked, relaxing slightly into attention as Keith growled again and snatched the bag away before heading over to his wardrobe.

“Keith has been expelled. And he’s lucky Iverson’s not pressing charges.”

“HE HAD IT COMING!”

“Keith, this isn’t the first time you’ve gotten physical with someone on campus,” Adam glanced at Griffin, who ducked his head, “and you had a record even before that. They have every right to expel you. You’ve proven you’re a danger to students and teachers alike.”

“I barely hit him,” Keith muttered, yanking the bag closed.

“And yet his nose is broken and his ribs are bruised.”

“Commander Iverson shouldn’t have said what he did, sir,” Griffin said, cautiously.

“No, he shouldn’t have,” Adam agreed with a glare at the wall. “And he’s facing his own trouble right now, which is the only reason he’s not pressing charges.”

“He won’t get much more than a slap on the wrist,” Keith snarled.

Adam didn’t bother to voice his agreement. “Do you have everything?”

Keith shot him a look and disappeared into the bathroom.

“Is he gonna be okay?”

Adam looked over at Griffin’s quiet words.

“I just -- I mean, I know that Lt. Shirogane -- that he doesn’t have anywhere…” he trailed off with a shrug, not meeting Adam’s eyes.

“It’s been taken care of. He’ll be fine for now. As for the future, that’s up to him.”

Griffin nodded and went back to his bed, picking up the tablet he had been working on.

When Keith came out with his bag of toiletries, Adam grabbed the duffel bag and left. Keith followed after sharing a few mumbled words with Griffin. Adam led him out to the parking area and Keith’s eyes darted over to the civilian lot.

Frowning, Keith asked, “Moira isn’t here?”

“Moira?”

“My social worker. Montgomery said she was coming to pick me up. I thought you brought me out here because she was here.”

“She was,” Adam said, setting his hand on Keith’s shoulder and leading him towards the personnel lot. “I -”

“What? You offered to personally escort me to the home. Thanks, but I think I’d rather walk.”

“You’re not going to the home.”

Keith gave him a suspicious glare. “What do you mean?”

Adam unlocked his car and opened the passenger door. He set the bag inside then gestured the kid in. When Keith just crossed his arms, he sighed and leaned back against the car. “I talked to Mrs. Faulkner and she agreed to help me get custody of you.”

Keith’s jaw dropped. “You -” His eyes narrowed and he stepped back. “Why would you do that?”

“Takashi promised that you wouldn’t have to go back to the home. The least I can do to honor his memory is keep that promise.”

“No, the least you can do is stay out of it, like you’ve been doing.”

Adam nodded. “I know I’ve been… okay, distant would be an understatement.”

Keith snorted.

“It shouldn’t have taken… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to completely push you away after the break up, but I did.”

“So this is just to make you feel better about yourself then,” Keith huffed and Adam grabbed his arm before he could march off.

“It’s about making it up to you,” he said softly. “I shouldn’t have let what was going on between Takashi and I affect our relationship. Especially when he left. I wasn’t there for you then, but I will be now. I owe it to both you and him.”

Keith’s scowl relaxed and Adam took that as his cue to pull the boy closer.

“Look, I understand if you don’t want to stay with me. If it’s what you really want, I’ll take you straight to the home right now.”

Keith stared at the ground for a moment before pulling his arm free and getting into the car.

Adam sighed, but otherwise stayed quiet as he walked around to the driver’s side.

“Where are we even going?” Keith asked once they’d made it past the Garrison’s walls. “You’re apartment is on base.”

Adam didn’t realize he’d been sitting stiffly in his seat until he relaxed at Keith’s words. “It is. But you’re not exactly allowed to stay on the premises since you’re no longer a student. Takashi got away with it before because we had the room and you were about to start at the Garrison. I’ve filled out the paperwork for off-base housing, I was just waiting for your decision to put it in. We’ll only need a two bedroom apartment so it won’t take more than a few days. Until then, we’ll stay at a hotel.”

Keith nodded and slouched down in his seat.

Adam glared into the empty room as his phone buzzed in his ear.

“Adam?”

“Where are you?”

“At home.”

“I must have walked into the wrong apartment then because I don’t see you anywhere,” Adam snorted, shutting Keith’s door.

A series of Hindi curses came from the phone. “You weren’t supposed to be back until late.”

“The meeting was cancelled. Now where are you?”

“I, uh… I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I didn’t have any schoolwork to do today so I went for a walk and…”

“You got lost.”

“Kind of,” Keith said slowly.

See Takashi, this is what happens when you let him grow up in the middle of a desert. No city survival skills. “Alright, can you see any landmarks?”

“Landmarks?”

Adam grabbed his keys off the kitchen counter and headed towards the front door. “You know, street signs? Businesses? Maybe even somewhere you could go into to get an address?”

“No.”

“There’s no landmarks around you at all.”

“… There’s a big rock. And a cliff. I think I saw a coyote den a short ways back.”

Adam paused, rubbed his forehead, took a deep breath, then continued on his way to his car. “Keith, are you in the middle of the desert?”

“… I think I can see an eagle’s nest up on the cliff.”

“Where did Takashi and I go wrong with you?”

“You left when you broke up with him for wanting to go to space one last time and he went and died on me.”

Adam glared at his phone before connecting it to his car. “That was a rhetorical question, brat. Can you check the coordinates on your phone?”

“How do I do that?”

“The map app.”

“There’s a map app?” There was a few moments of static as Keith fumbled around with his phone. “Okay, it says thirty-five degrees and forty minutes north by one-thirteen degrees and 17 minutes west. You know, with this I could just -”

Adam entered the coordinates into the car’s GPS, saying, “Stay where you are. I’ll come get you. And then the two of us are going to have a long talk about wandering off out into the desert without supplies.”

“Great.”

“Keith -”

“I brought supplies this time!”

“What are you even doing out there?” Adam asked, glancing between the homemade ice tea he should be drinking and the can of soda he wanted to drink.

“I don’t know. I just feel like something’s… calling out to me. Does that sound crazy?”

“Very.” Adam grabbed the soda and closed the fridge. “It’s probably the grief.”

“I’m not going to a shrink.”

“It’d be good for you,” he hummed, laying down on the couch. “And not just because of whatever’s going on now. A psychiatrist could help with your anger issues and to work through the trauma from your time in foster care and losing your mom and two dads.”

“He wasn’t my dad; I didn’t lose my mom, she left; and I’m not seeing a shrink. I tried it before, remember?”

“We’ll get a garrison approved therapist, not some quack that calls for an exorcist just because an eight-year-old growled at him,” Adam said, rolling his eyes.

“Still not going.”

“Keith, you’re hearing voices.”

“I am not! It’s not voices, just… some sort of energy.”

“Right, that’s much better,” Adam snorted.

“I’m hanging up now.”

“Are you going to need a ride or can you actually figure out your way home this time.”

“I could have figured out my way home the last seven times. I’m surprised you’re not halfway here already.”

“Iverson caught Sam’s daughter sneaking through his computer so we all had to sit through an hour long lecture on security. I’m not in the mood to chase you around the desert today. Just get back here before curfew or I’m going to start leaving you at the Garrison daycare.”

“Pretty sure they don’t take anyone my age.”

“I’ll sign you up as a volunteer. That way you’ll get a babysitter and get punished by taking care of a handful of brats. Two birds, one stone.”

“I’ll just leave as soon as your gone.”

“You’d abandon a pack of helpless children? I thought I raised you better than that!”

“I hate you.”

Adam stared at the hovercycle blankly.

“Keith, my son, I love you, but I do hope you know I’m not going to be as forgiving about Grand Theft Auto as Takashi was.”

“Not your son and I didn’t steel it,” Keith deadpanned, not bothering to pull out of the engine compartment. “Can you hand me the spanner.”

Adam looked down at the old toolbox next to Keith feet. “No.” He shrugged when Keith’s head finally appeared, only to give him a dirty look. “I’m a pilot, not an engineer. I have no idea what a spanner is.”

“Didn’t you have to take basic mechanics?” Keith snorted, digging an adjustable wrench out of the box before disappearing back into the engine compartment.

“It’s not necessary for pilots as long as their communications officer took the course. Since most of them do, I opted for the first aid course.”

“I was supposed to the basics for that next year. Shiro said it was best for pilots to know the basics of both engineering and communications.”

“Of course he did. Takashi was an overachiever,” Adam hummed. He shoved down the melancholy feeling and leaned over to peak at Keith’s work. As far as he could tell everything was in good condition, if a bit dusty. “If you didn’t steal it, then where did it come from? Because I know you didn’t buy it.”

“It was pop’s. Found it when I decided to check out our old place. I was surprised it was still there. I figured it’d be the first thing the Davidsons would have sold off.”

Adam raised an eyebrow and took a closer look at the engine. “You’re saying this thing has been sitting out there for all these years? How’d you even get it here?”

Keith shrugged. “It seems to be okay, just needs a few tune ups. And some cleaning. Pops did a lot of custom work on it. I guess he made them to last.”

Adam didn’t think that sounded right, but what did he know about hovercycles or mechanics. “Is this thing street legal?”

“Yes?” he said slowly. “I know we used to take it into town.”

“Good. Once you’ve finished up with it then we can update the registration.”

Keith looked up at him with a smirk. “Does this mean you’ll stop calling me everytime I’m out in the desert freaking out that I’m lost?”

“Nope.”

“Pidge Gunderson.”

“Here.”

Adam briefly glanced at the student that answered before turning back to the attendance sheet.

Then he looked back up.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

He finished up the attendance and set the cadets to reading before subtly pulling out his phone and sending off a quick text.

Found her. She’s fine. Talk later.

He finished up the class as normal until the bell rang.

“Gunderson, a moment?”

“Sir?” she asked as she stopped by his desk.

“Hope you don’t mind my curiosity. I know two of your team already has flight training so I was wondering why you’re in my class,” Adam said while the rest of the class filed out.

“I already have the engineering basics down. I figure physics of flight can be useful for pretty much anything.”

Adam nodded mindlessly, watching the door shut behind the last student. He turned to the girl with a raised eyebrow. “Katie, what are you doing here?”

She froze before nervously adjusting her glasses. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Adam crossed his arms. “Katie, you look exactly like Matt, between the hair and gla-” He frowned and leaned closer. “Are you wearing his glasses?”

She fidgeted with the glasses again.

Adam sighed and straightened up. “What are you doing? You do realize you’ve been banned from the premises, right?”

The girl glared at the ground, fists clenching. “I’m going to find out what happened to my family.”

“Katie -”

“I know you guys are lying about what happened. I don’t care if you kick me out or charge me with treason or whatever. I’m going to find out what happened to them.”

Adam pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re still on this?”

“I’m never going to stop.”

What had he done to be surrounded by stubborn children?

Adam adjusted his own glasses before turning to the whiteboard. “Call your mom. She’s freaking out because you disappeared on her.”

There was a moment of quiet before Katie asked, “What?”

“She called me ear-”

“You… aren’t going to kick me out.”

“What would I need to kick you out for, Cadet Gunderson?” Adam turned to meet her eyes. “I know nothing. Call your mom and please try to keep out of jail, for her sake.”

Katie studied him for a moment before nodding. “Yessir.”

Found something. Think I’m getting closer to whatever it is I’m feeling out here.

The text came alongside a photo of a pictograph featuring a giant blue lion running amongst a herd of gazelle.

[seenashwrite]

Dearest Nash, I've touched on this before in (I believe) in a discussion re: why some mainstream fics get oodles of notes while more original ones do not, *but* I wanted to get a bit more specific here. There are certain writers here whose writing has a definite vibe to it (if you will) that separates their work from others, and your name is one of the first that comes to mind. Bear with me, because trying to detail what makes your writing stand out is difficult while trying to articulate a Q

^ this is a gif with parts 2 - 4, just FYI

Hmmm… this is a bit of a brain buster. But I can answer it, and I think succinctly, maybe with a touch of that Spidey sense you mention:

Thank you for your inquiry, hope that helps! 

I kid. But this is a brain-turner. And a characteristic which, like you say, ain’t limited to me. I’d honestly throw comedians under this umbrella, too, not because I’m necessarily gunning for a laugh every time, but because it’s pretty much their job to take a “basic” (a tenet or fact of life or present reality or whatever) and present the observation with a twist. I think of storyteller comedians specifically, your Patton Oswalt-s, Maria Bamford-s, Kathy Griffin-s, and John Mulaney-s.

So if I can sum up, assuming I’m tracking with you, what you’re more or less driving at with the “how” is this –> Is there anything beyond simply personality, or an auto-pilot thought cascade (for lack of better terminology) that contributes? Are there things someone could do/be proactive about, to perhaps cause this same sort of reaction to happen in their brain?

I think there just might be.

Folks reading this, let me ask you a question, and you cannot look it up:

What was the name of the Sherpa guide who led Sir Edmund Hillary up Mount Everest?

.

.

.

His name was Tenzing Norgay.

Nash, what in the name of the frozen corpse of George Mallory does this have to do with Lion’s question?

I shall tell you.

My father told me that fact when I was quite young, so young I legit couldn’t even ballpark my age for you. The context was that having little facts tucked away in your brain may come in handy. Not in a Jeopardy kind of way, more in a conversational way. I’ve no idea why the man thought the Sherpa guide who led Hillary up Mt. Everest would ever come up during a conversation with enough regularity to justify my knowing that fact (aside from him randomly quizzing me throughout my life) but hey, I guess it just did.

But speaking of Lil’ Nash, the situation for her was that she was the eldest of all the Nash litter by miles… like seven or eight years, I’m not bothering to check. So I had a lot of alone time, and my grandmother was my chief babysitter, so prior to kindergarten and then til I was in about second grade (so: all day long during the week, then every weekday after she picked me up from school), I was pretty much always at her house. Yeah, there were toys, but not a lot to do. And I’d read. I’d been reading on my own for a decent while, not because I was some prodigy but because my dad read to me *constantly* when Lil’ Nash was Itty-Bitty Nash, and it “took”. My mom also, every time she went to the grocery store always - and I mean always - brought back a book for me. It might’ve been an Archie comic—-

Mandatory #fuck the CW’s Riverdale tag

—-or a Babysitter’s Club, or Sweet Valley High, Judy Blume, Madeleine L’Engle, Zilpha Keatley Snyder, you get my point. Some small paperback. It would piss Dad off because he’s a cheap bastard and two buck books once or twice a month were really gonna cut into the savings [eyeroll] but also, in a way, because I’d kill it in a half day/a day. Wouldn’t put it down. After awhile, I started writing my own silly little kid stories, then - and this is where the creative writing love came about -  I started writing soap operas for my Barbies. (When I was older - like, 5th grade? 6th grade, maybe? - none of my peers were still playing with Barbies, and I got made fun of when, at a sleepover, they saw my stash. And I was like - No, no, no. Those aren’t for playing. That’s my cast.)

Time went on, and when I was bored at post-church lunch/dinners, I would also read the old encyclopedias at my grandmother’s, the ones from the late ‘60s/early ‘70s that she had for my mom and my aunt. As I got even older and became fascinated with rooting through the boxes in gran’s basement, looking at all the cool old clothes, I stumbled upon my aunt’s collection of Whoa-Hooooo Shit There’s No Way My Grandparents Knew You Read These books. Those kinda Harlequin-esque ones, except my aunt’s tastes run close to mine, none were the same shtick with different covers, shmultzy-sappy romance, there was always some sort of intrigue along with the sexy times, and she also had, like, every legit V. C. Andrews (meaning: not the ones from the ghostwriter, this was way before her death) book.

What is my point? I read a LOT. Now-a-days, other than fanfic (which… straight up: I don’t read a lot of that, either. I peace out on probs 80% of it before the third-to-fifth paragraph. It’s gotta sell me fast, yo) I haven’t read fiction in probably, oh…. 12 years? I think the last ones were the first couple Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood. Wait, no! I lie! I read the 50 Shades books when I was traveling 2x/wk for a job about 4 years ago, and I needed the laughs. It worked. Oh my days, that woman can’t write. The screenplay might’ve been worse, it goes her, then Buckleming, then everyone else. It’s bad. In any event, past decade or so, it’s more historical stuff and true crime and science stuff and all that old fart jazz.

Okay, so that’s #1: Read. And not just anything, be well-read, and that doesn’t mean developing some level of expertise, by “well” I’m saying to cover the spread. You’re building your tool kit, is all. You won’t use most of it, but it’s nice to have options. You also don’t always have to get this stuff from reading now-a-days, because podcasts. Cover the spread there, too. Lemme look at my bookmarks…. 

[Spongebob narrator voice: A few moments later]

I’m back. Science - Skeptic’s Guide to the Universe; General current stuff without being news - CGP Grey’s Hello Internet; current events with shittons of pop culture, past and present - Greg Proops’ Smartest Man in the World; fun history stuff - The Dollop; entertainment stuff - How Did This Get Made.

#2: Keep a notebook with you and jot down turns-of-phrase that spark something in your brain - things you read on websites, on twitter, in articles, things you hear people say (real life, TV, movies, podcasts), and write it. Don’t snap a pic with your phone or make a note in your phone. There are studies behind this, I’m not hunting them down, you’ll just have to trust me, but there are, and it goes to being reflexive, a brain “muscle memory” thing, if you will. You’re not doing it to plagiarize, you’re doing it to dissect it, kind’ve like you did with the example you gave on me —> went from punch action to punch spiked with booze to a punch with a spiked gauntlet.

Which leads to #3: Mental dictionary. I have a large vocab repository, and it stems from the tons of reading - I stop and look up stuff if I either don’t know it, or it’s used in such a way that I think they’ve got it wrong and want to double-check that maybe there’s another usage I don’t know - and also stems from a drive to combat the (still fairly thick) deep South drawl I can’t kick, and not for lack of trying. But see, I couldn’t have whipped out that progression if I weren’t aware that one definition of “spike” is “to add alcohol to”, or of the common shtick in stories of spiked punch like at high school proms typically, or knew about the existence of spiked gauntlets / old school armor. 

And I guarantee you that a good chunk of people didn’t really “get it”, and just thought “Nash Be Nashin’, that nutty gal”. So they “get it” on that level, but don’t Get. It., if you see what I’m saying. And that’s fine. Maybe it got something cranking in the back of their mind and it’ll hit ‘em in the middle of the night, or they’ll be watching Game of Thrones or something, see a gauntlet and be like “Oh goddamnit, I just got a throw-a-way one-liner from three years ago” and have a chuckle.

Related, re: looking stuff up and things that people “get”? I didn’t know fuck-all about Twilight, but it seemed of import to the folks around 5 years younger than me, the Nashlings wouldn’t shut up about it, so I got a good working knowledge of it. Same with Harry Potter, and through it I got to “know” J.K. Rowling, who I find to be an exceptional writer, so that was great, and I’ve watched the movies for the most part over the years at Christmastime, and I don’t give the first shit about what “house” I’m in, nor do I care about what Patronus I’d fart, but I have a working knowledge of what those are, and horcruxes and who Snape and Voldie are, you get my point. I can keep up. But to do it, I had to take the time to look it up. One thing I would not trade for gold is Michael Sheen chewing the goddamn scenery in that battle segment from the last Twilight movie. Have I watched the movie? No. But that scene is the shit. And that baby CGI is horrific on several subtle levels. And not-so-subtle. I’ve digressed.

Back to those notes: So if you’ve got these notes jotted, you might see something else and think “I feel like that could’ve been snappier…. why do I think that….” And you’ve got a resource at your disposal, that little notebook. Hell, jot that thing down - things you think could be done better. I have in many documents a highlight around chunks of scenes for my big dog story where it says in bold above or below “DO BETTER”. Meaning: there’s a better way to get from A to B, but I’m just not quite there yet. I’m pretty quick on the uptake and can crank out something snappy on the fly (like say, in CASPN chat or when banging out a short reply or thank you note) but there’s definitely times I gotta slap a DO BETTER on it and walk away til that snappy something-or-other light bulb goes off. 

Here’s a recent one where I backtracked, matter of fact - that noir spoof thing I wrote? Along with my co-writer, Moscato? There was a line that I couldn’t hit with a good zinger, so I just said moments were going by like a fat hamster on a wheel, which is cute, but not really grooving with the setting/the vibe. Less tipsy, when I was correcting some inelegant formatting and a misspelling [sigh], I went “Oh! Why didn’t this occur to me last night? Right. Wine.” So the line is now about moments dragging like a rolling donut with a copper on its tail. Get it? The cop’s a fat ass. The donut-cop stereotype.

…….Fine, it ain’t my best, but it fits better. Moving on.

And this leads nicely into #4, and a specific tip I can impart - assuming you’ve got a passable-to-high level of vocabulary in your tool belt, practice messing around with making nouns into verbs, and twisting random stuff into descriptors and using bizarre words/things in metaphors/analogies. Like, I say “adulting” quite a bit. Ali - @littlegreenplasticsoldier - I thiiiink was writing recently about Sam being drunk, and he’s a tall wobbly Jenga tower on his last Jenga. Going back to the noir, pulpy detective style, try messing with the whole “S/he was like a ___ that ____”. Add on to stuff that’s well known - He was like a dog with a bone, if the bone was a ____ and he was a ____ and we were in a ____. (I have *nothing* in mind to fill those blanks, by the way, feel free to twist it into sumpin’)

What else…. okay, here’s a #5: In drafts, let yourself wander, and see what kicks out. It can be fueled by silliness or anger, but I don’t reckon you’re gonna get the “snappy” you’re aiming for if you’re down in the dumps and going full-court-press angst. The best stuff, IMO, comes from the space in between goofy and pissed, and that is The Land Of Snark. You can always re-style it to bend more dry or wistful should you need to, certainly, depending on the situation.

Have a sample of a primo Nash Digression that was fueled by ire in a recap from Season 12 (episode 19). I had said - RE: the random inclusion of the character Joshua, which still pisses me off because they burned a character that held massive potential for future stuff as he’d been shown to be the only angel with direct access to Chuck, so, y’know, that could never come in handy, like ever again in the series, right? - the following.

Mandatory pre-emptive #fuck Dabb

[Spongebob narrator voice] A few moments later —> 

On god, I have no idea where that came from, and here’s where we go back to ol’ Spidey up there, because end of the day?

All that other stuff’s the foundation, sure, but there’s always gonna be the weird iggy, the thing that can’t be learned or taught, whatever the quirky synapse is that fires off in my/our brains. In my experience, it’s an ADD-ish sort of jam mixed with the Nostradamus effect. Meaning, (A) we’re at Level 10, rapid fire thought processing >50% of the time, and (B) throw out enough stuff for long enough, some of it’s going to stick. And I whiff it plenty. Multiple times in CASPN chat I’ve been like “Whoo, tough room” when something falls flat.

A specific example: @mrswhozeewhatsis - and I think you saw this, but anyone else seeing this may not have - gave probably the most fantastic analogy I’ve seen regarding the whole “getting it” thing, and while it was on the topic of meaty plots that get too far into the weeds (my specialty) and how it can lessen appeal to a broader audience, it still applies here. 

She said “Sometimes, when I’m reading something of yours, I feel like there’s a joke I’m missing. It’s like watching Spaceballs without having seen Star Wars.” I say that to say - nobody’s gonna land references that cover the spread 100% of the time. And, y’know, fine. I figure maybe it’ll prompt someone to do a quick google for - well, let’s use Spaceballs. Most folks will no doubt get the Star Wars part, but maybe not Spaceballs. Maybe they’ll check it out, find something they enjoy. Or learn a new word. Or get a brainstorm for a story. Who knows?

Last tip: Don’t actively mimic anyone’s style. Much fail. And I don’t only mean because if they’re on a social Venn diagram with you, would likely recognize themselves in your stuff——

Takes a moment to wave to the peeps still trying with me! #bless your hearts

—–but because it’s fucking hard. I did it broadly on the noir thing, that’s not a hard thing, to homage generalities, but the way I’m messing with doing this on that silly Princess Bride series? Purposefully styling it like Goldman? It’s good  challenging and all, and it is making it feel more in the groove with the book/movie, but I have to be in the right frame of mind or it’s like fingernails on a chalkboard, and when I have pushed it, then gone back, it’s sloggy, soggy garbage.

I say all that to say: it’s an amalgam of brain-wiring/personality, and world/life perspective(s), and knowledge acquired over time. The first just is; the second will evolve in myriad ways, maybe for the better, maybe for the worse; the last is the one where you/we have control, we can fill bucket after bucket of information, and the well won’t ever run dry.

Sorry this took so long. I kept adding and subtracting. This is the edited version, if you can believe it. Welcome to Nash Brain. 😉

[toohardtosummarize]

uhhhh maybe 9 for claven?

I’ve sort of drifted from Claven recently in favor of Emoraven (someone should send me a prompt for them btw if you’re reading this) but GOD I do still enjoy writing some Claven man thank you.

9. one small kiss, pulling away for an instant, then devouring each other

It’s easier to sleep at the Griffin house than it is at Nygel’s, but, even without the steady rumble of Raven’s foster mother arguing with her customers downstairs, or the erratic growl of Monroe’s snores from beneath the shabby duvet of the bed beside Raven’s, or the occasional hopefully-a-firework-but-probably-a-gunshot from the streets below Raven and Monroe’s window, Raven sometimes finds it hard to find peace. The nice thing about the Griffin’s house is that, when slumber escapes her, Raven can pad down the stairs, grab a folding chair from the basement, and go out and sit on the front lawn to look at the stars without worrying about whether the steps will creak, and Nygel will notice her and, best case, slap her across the face and send her back to her room or, worst case, force Raven to do one of Nygel’s “clients” a favor that Raven would really rather not do. At the Griffins’, Raven can simply head down the stairs and out the front door without causing any kind of a scene, and gaze up at the sky which, goddammit, she’s gonna find her way to someday.

She’s settled into her chair and just begun to let go of herself, to lose the crushing weight of who and where she is in order to meld seamlessly with the endless expanse of blue above her, and of black above that, when she hears the groan of the door and becomes aware of a presence behind her, on the Griffin’s front porch. Kane, probably; Clarke and Abby are both aware of Raven’s stargazing habit, and know that she prefers to be left alone to indulge it, but Abby’s new boyfriend has never stayed the night when Raven was also sleeping over. “I’m fine!” Raven calls over her shoulder – from what Raven’s seen of him, Kane seems like a nice guy, and she doesn’t want him to worry about her.

“I know.”

The voice is not Kane’s, but rather one with which Raven is far more familiar – a little grumbly and a lot certain. Raven turns to look over her shoulder, and there she is, leaning against the brick facade of the house and staring out into the distance as if the view is not blocked by the facade of the Millers’ house across the street. She’s pajama-clad and barefoot, and she looks almost unearthly in the dim, dusty glow of the entry light; the moths that flock around it ring her head like a crown, or like a halo.

“Clarke,” Raven says. “Hey.”

“Can’t sleep?”

“That’s why I come out here.”

Clarke nods, but doesn’t move to return indoors. Raven raises an eyebrow at her. “Is there something you want from me, Clarke?”

“Nothing,” Clarke says. “I just … couldn’t sleep, either. Thought I’d see if this helped.”

“If you want a chair, you’ll have to get your own,” Raven says, but Clarke comes to sit directly on the damp grass beside Raven instead. Raven has to keep herself from barking out a laugh; Abby’s going to be so pissed when she has to wash the grass stains from the fine sky-blue fabric of Clarke’s pajama pants, and Clarke has to know it, too. “Your mom’s gonna kill you,” Raven says, and Clarke looks up at her and grins.

“Probably. But that’s a problem for tomorrow.”

“Living in the moment, Griffin? Seems I’m finally rubbing off on you.”

They sit there in silence for a while, staring up at the stars; Clarke traces idle patterns on her own bare ankle, and Raven rubs at her bare forearms, her bare shins; either Clarke’s long-sleeved pajamas, no matter how thin the material, keep out the cold better than Raven’s old Star Wars t-shirt and athletic shorts, or Clarke’s Germanic ancestry simply makes her better suited to the chill of Virginia in late-November than does Raven’s Brazilian blood; probably some of both. Eventually, Clarke glances down at her wrist; Raven follows her gaze, and realizes that Clarke, though otherwise dressed, like Raven, for bed, still wears her father’s watch around said wrist. Raven squints at it: 12:13 AM.

“Happy birthday, Raven,” Clarke says, and Raven starts.

“Fucking shit,” Raven says. Clarke looks up at her, confused. “It’s the twenty-seventh?” Raven asks.

“For thirteen minutes now, yeah. What, did you forget?”

Raven nods. “The only days I’ve been thinking about lately are the days until I get my letter from MIT telling me whether or not I got in.”

Clarke nods. “I know you will,” she says. “You’re a genius, Raven. They’d be idiots not to pick you first – if I were on the board, I sure as hell know I would. Anyways, you are officially eighteen years old now, Rae.”

“I’m not officially eighteen years old until this afternoon,” Raven says, grinning, and Clarke tries to elbow Raven in the side, but, being seated on the ground, only gets Raven’s hip. “No, yeah. Eighteen.” Raven tries out the word. It feels like a road widening up ahead, like opportunity, like freedom. “No more Nygel. I can vote, and get a bank account.” Her lips turn down into a grimace at the next thought. “I can get called for jury duty,” she says, and Clarke’s expression sours as well. Then, with an ecstatic realization, “I can buy fireworks!”

Clarke laughs. “Sparklers, maybe. You need a permit in Virginia for the heavy-duty ones.”

“Then I can get a fucking permit,” Raven says. Clarke grins up at her. “Seriously,” Raven continues. “Beach week. You and me, Virginia Beach, like we’ve been planning since freshman year – I’ll put on the show of goddamn lifetime for you, Griffin. ”

“Hot,” Clarke murmurs.

Raven looks down at Clarke. “Was that a fireworks pun?” she asks, and, when Clarke looks back at Raven, she’s blushing.

“I mean �� it could be?” Clarke rises to her knees, leans over the armrest of Raven’s chair, and presses her lips briefly against Raven’s. When she pulls back, she looks more uncertain than Raven has ever seen her in her life, but she doesn’t draw any further away than she was before she leaned over. “Or … it could be … an observation … about you.” Raven can see Clarke’s hard swallow in her throat.

“Fuck, Clarke,” Raven says, and she doesn’t know how to convey do that again or that was the best birthday present I’ve ever received in my life or I know your mom and her boyfriend are asleep upstairs and I’m not quiet but we could always go fuck on the couch in the basement or something in words, but something in her eyes must do it, because Clarke moves so she’s more in front of Raven’s chair and leans forward again, and kisses Raven, and this time she puts one hand on Raven’s bicep and runs the other through Raven’s hair and Raven leans forward, pressing into it, until she tips her chair and falls onto the ground on top of Clarke, who rolls them over in the grass, and her tongue is in Raven’s mouth now, and vice versa (Raven isn’t sure when that happened, but she’s not going to question it), and Raven’s hands are under Clarke’s top, grasping at the warm flesh of Clarke’s lower back, fingers roaming everywhere they can reach, and one of Clarke’s hands finds its way beneath Raven’s mane of hair and rubs circles against the back of her neck, and Raven groans, biting Clarke’s lip accidentally, although it doesn’t appear, by the way Clarke ruts against her, that Clarke minds, and – Clarke pulls away for air.

“Indoors?” Clarke asks. Raven can’t nod, the back of her head against the ground as it is, but she can’t speak, either, so she lets out a breathy syllable of assent. Clarke stands, and helps Raven to stand, as well. Her hand in Raven’s, she heads for the door.

“Downstairs,” Raven pants, and Clarke stops, and turns back, and grins.

[headstrongblake-a]

Five times cried ( idk, angst its the best i got )

SEND “FIVE TIMES ______ED” FOR A DRABBLE OF 5 DIFFERENT TIMES OUR CHARACTERS DID THAT. | status; selectively accepting - @faultedleader

they gotta go under a read more though cause, damn i got carried away.

letters from home

1. it has to be lincoln’s fault. when she thought of what her big brother would do come graduation she always assumed college. fun. some time to finally act like the eighteen year old he was but she never imagined he’d come home to tell mom and her that they two men had enlisted in the army. at first she’s angry. he tells them and mom wanders stumbles towards bellamy before she wraps her arms around his frame and tells him how proud she is. what a good man. a good soldier. at their mother’s last words, octavia stomps up the staircase, leaving the two alone in the living room. time passes and she ignores his gentle knocks on her door. ignores his pleas for her to come out of her room. her once brightly lit room succumbs to darkness as the sun sets and octavia hears her mother chatter with another outside her window until eventually the whole house falls silent. she continues to sit with her knees tucked against her chest, back pressed against her bedroom door when her ears perk up at the sound of his footsteps heading to his room. how could he do this? the thought has been turning in her mind and finally as she gets to her feet she’s ready to ask him. throwing open her bedroom door she goes across the hall, not bothering to knock before she barges into his room. “what’s wrong with you!” she demands, arms coming to cross over her chest. “how — how can you leave me?” it’s selfish, but he’s always been there. she’s angry, vibrating even when his eyes come to meet hers. that’s when she loses it. the tears that have welled in her eyes begin to fall. too quick for her to harshly brush them away. “it’s supposed to be you and me – it’s always been you and me against the whole world and now you’re just going to leave me here?” her head shakes, voice losing to her sobs as she moves further into his room. “w —what am i — i supposed t – to do without you, you can’t leave me bell, what if you get hurt, what if you die over there and i never see you again?” 

2. she’s nervous and her fingernails reflect it. fox had to take octavia’s hand in hers to stop her from completely chewing on her nails until they bled as they wait near the gate bellamy and lincoln’s should be coming out of any minute. they’re not kids anymore. by now the girls have graduated and it feels like it’s been too damn long since she’s seen her brother. octavia spent weeks rereading the letter bellamy had sent her. the one that stated it was time and they would be back at the end of the month. she can still see the image of her tackling fox to the ground in a hug, screaming he’s coming home! they’re coming home! octavia’s head snaps up when a warm voice comes over the PA, announcing that bellamy’s plane was beginning to deboard. by now she can’t stop the shakes in her hands and knees as she waits, emerald hues searching for the familiar freckled face as other soldier’s begin trickling in. her grip on fox’s hand only tightens as her heart begins to beat rapidly in her chest. come on, bell, come on. she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth when she takes one step forward, as if that one step might make it so she can see him more easily. where are you? where are you? eyes continue to search for him until…there! she doesn’t even realize she’s let go of her best friend's hand and is dogging her way through the crowd until her body slams full force into her brother. she doesn’t notice the tears that have begun to blur her vision as arms wrap around his neck. hands tightly dig into his uniform as if someone might try to take him from her again. “i love you, big brother.” she whispers, head resting against his as the tears come pouring down her cheeks. 

broken inside with no place to go; there’s nobody home

3. octavia, group therapy is very vital to your recovery and we can’t keep giving you the benefits without any of the work. that catches her attention. causes her to look up from the floor as dead eyes settle on her therapist. octavia knows the benefits doctor griffin refers to is the luxury of having her brother here. three visits a week. it’s not nearly enough time for her considering bellamy’s only home for a month but she’ll take whatever she can get. even if that means a family therapy session between the blake family and her doctor. abby wasn’t overly thrilled when bellamy was the only one to step through the doorway earlier and octavia wasn’t paying close enough attention to the excuse aurora had given her brother. but it didn’t bother the younger blake. she didn’t need aurora. “what you want me to say?” octavia asks finally, breaking the silence as she tucks her knees against her chest on the sofa in abby’s office. she’s always hard during these times. refusing to give abby barely an inch. well, maybe let’s start with your childhood, tell me what that was like – or if you feel up to it, we can all talk about the last couple years, must be quite a change at home with bellamy’s absence. her jaw clenches. the younger sibling in her ready to jump to her big brother’s defence. she hated the way her doctor spoke – making it seem like all her problems could have easily been solved had bellamy stayed. as if it were that simple. normally, she can bite down the urge. smother the need to jump to his defence when it’s just patient and doctor sitting in these four walls. but this time with bellamy beside her, hues narrow towards the doctor. “sure, love to.” her tone drips with bitterness as she rolls her shoulders back, sitting up straighter. “so what, you wanna know about how my brother’s been my parent longer than i can even remember? how bellamy’s been the only good thing we got going on in this family?” she hesitates, eyes shifting towards him beside her. it’s not untrue. he was a hero. her hero. there wasn’t anyone who could tell octavia differently. “or you wanna start with my mother – i could tell you about the time she took off for so long that bell started forging her signatures on my school forms, y’know so no one notices she had disappeared again, so social services wouldn’t separate us.” octavia explains casually with a lift of her shoulders, as if this was the most normal thing she knew. “or sure, let’s talk about when bellamy had to go – when i made the mistake of asking aurora if she could tell me about my dad, school project – some family tree shit,” her head shakes, hues shifting back towards her doctor. “she slapped me so hard i thought her hand print was gonna be there forever – didn’t go to school for a few days after that one.” the look on her doctor’s face shows the disapproval – must not have been what she had in mind for their group therapy session. but octavia’s tired. so sick of everyone looking at her brother like he was some sort of trigger for her. “maybe, you actually wanna fucking listen to the time i woke up in my room with aurora’s hands around my neck – when she tried her hardest to squeeze all the life out of me,” it’s been three months but even now as the words flow past her lips it’s like she’s back in her dark bedroom. the panic and fear rises in her. tears well in her eyes for the scared little girl her mother tried to murder. the tears that prick her eyes bring about her anger as she gets to her feet. it’s not unusual for voices to be raised during session with abby. that one hour with her was always emotional for patients. except maybe louis. “or maybe,” her voice grows louder, a single tear rolls down her face. “maybe we should talk about the time i woke up in a haze with my mom’s body pinning me to the ground, feeling every single bit of pain the razor made against my arm but unable to stop any of it!” this time as her words stop the tears continue to flow. leaving tracks on her cheeks as she realizes she’s said too much. swallowing hard she pushes her hair out of her face. “i’m done – i want to go back to my room.” she finishes, unable to look her brother in the eye.

i won’t let anything happen to you; separated

4. she can’t help it when the sobs erupt from her lips. nightmares bring out the fear in her. the loneliness however is what causes her tears. it’s not as if the skybox is new to her. it’s been two years since she last saw her father before being locked away for a crime she’s still unsure of. it’s then she hears the soothing voice coming from the cell beside her. they’re supposed to be asleep. not supposed to talk to the people beside them and yet after two years, the boy beside her is still trying to calm her fears. even if it meant he could be punished. “w-what if he just didn’t love me anymore?” she asks, bringing the worn out blanket with her as she settles herself in the corner where she can hear the other boy the most. maybe she never committed a crime at all. her father simply didn’t want her – better to get rid of her now before she became more of a hassle as she grew older. “do you think —” she starts, sniffling quietly as her gaze casts downwards. “do you think that’s why i never had a mommy, she didn’t want me either?” aurora asks, her voice feeling smaller than ever before.

i was born for this - azgeda au

5. “bellamy, bellamy!” octavia screams calling out for her brother, emerald hues flashing open. she awakens with a sharp gasp in, immediately sitting up with a great force. the nightmare had seemed so real. like she was back in the small cell that kept her a prisoner to the queen’s torturous rath. for a few moments she sits on the edge of the medical bed, feet dangling over the side as she tries to steady her breaths. she doesn’t even realize she’d been crying until she hears the light drip as tears meet with the paper covering on the bed. it’s the small sound that allows her to let it all go. she stays quiet -- something that’s been drilled into her since the moment she was born. shh, shh, i won’t let anything bad happen to you octavia, i promise. she’s always been taught to make herself smaller and bellamy’s always been there to make everything better for her. except this time, he can’t. this time he’s at the center of what’s destroying her. who are you -- bellamy you killed everyone! listen, octavia -- our new chancellor pike put lincoln in lock up. she’s so deep in her sorrow and thoughts that she didn’t even notice bellamy had made his way inside med bay. that he was standing in front of her, reaching out to calm her fears. “no!” she shouts, the tears blurring her vision as fingers push at the body in front of her. “you did this.” her head shakes. “you’re a monster.”